


Better Than Right

by XzadionOmega



Category: Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XzadionOmega/pseuds/XzadionOmega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Eventually, I know I'm doomed to get what I am asking for." Weiss and perfection as a way of life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Right

There was always the need to work. Always. Every meter needed to be filled to a tiny red line. To “Pass” wasn’t to succeed; to _exceed_ was success. The check marks in each tiny box on every intake form, evaluation form, all of them needed to be there, but none of them said that he exceeded; that was implied, but never stated.

He was _immaculate_ , after all. Perfect genetics, perfect training. No flaws, no weaknesses. Close-combat, ranged combat, two-front warfare, three-front warfare, one-against-an-army, endurance, strength, speed, and doing all of it while laughing at the slaughter; that was life.

In truth, there was no way that he could fail. But that was always fluttering in the background of his mind. He couldn’t fail, but he couldn’t _guarantee_ that he couldn’t fail. On every piece of paper, his failure was impossible. But on other pieces of paper, his failure was imminent. His conception could have failed. His training could fail.

That was impossible.

But it was life.

The light of the mako matched the light of his eyes, and it even outshines the track lights that lit up hallways that he strode down, tracking blood of the last few recruits.

His muscles were tight, hard, just like any nerve that he might have had. There was no childhood vulnerability to compare it to. Childhood might have insisted that his nerves be shot. Shelke’s gaze, wide and blue, compare his arms to her sticks. She compared his lack of nerves to her own tense, wiry nerves, and came up just as inadequate as if Weiss had scored just a Meets Expectations instead of his usual Exceeds Expectations.

Shelke thought of him as impossible. Maybe he was impossible.

But it was life.

* * *

Godhood was only an idea. Just something that people did to compare his progress to something appropriate. Never officially, always just Even within paperwork, he was never a god. It was a nice word, benevolent and mighty, thrown around when he did something better than right. Even so, it feels appropriate. He can scarcely feel, but that’s normal. Ascended beyond what is even possible for humanity. This should be impossible.

But this is his death.

And he accepts it as easily as he accepts perfection. 

**Author's Note:**

> Literal word vomit. Its worth noting that the spark for this was listening to WtNV's Kevin babble about his Smiling God.


End file.
